The Less Fortunate
by Hazel Eyed Girl 1998
Summary: Alice Henrie is a beggar on the streets of Paris. When she meets the Phantom of the Opera outside the Opera Populaire, an interesting relationship begins to unfold. Will Erik be able to find love again, or will Christine be his only Angel of Music? Phantom/OC. Rated M for mature themes, mild violence and a few scenes of a mildly sexual or suggestive nature. Review!
1. Chapter 1

The street outside the Opera Populaire was freezing in winter. I knew this for certain for I had slept there for a year. My clothes, by now, were tattered and worn thin – my dress stained and dirty, my stockings ripped and my shoes scuffed. I huddled inside the doorway of the most famous opera house in Paris, trying to find some shelter from the wind. My father and mother had died in January of the previous year, and I had been left destitute, cast off by even the orphanage, which had no more room for starving children. My arms were stick thin, with barely any flesh between skin and bone, but I wrapped them around myself tightly. My grief at my parents' death still cut me freshly like a knife wound. I expected my mother to turn and hold me when I woke, to call me her baby Alice, to tell me that everything was all right – but she never would again.

I was jolted out of my memories by a voice shouting from the open door. "Filthy urchin!" It was one of the managers of the Populaire, Andre. "Get away!" I scurried from the door, hit by an icy blast of wind as soon as I stepped onto the cobbles. I hurried to an alleyway and huddled down, hesitant lest I get attacked by a cutpurse and robbed of the little I had. I did not notice a shadowy figure step in beside me.

"I shall speak to my managers about the way they treat people less fortunate than they." The voice in my ear was soft and sibilant, unmistakeably male and unfamiliar. I turned. Behind me stood a tall man, probably thirty. He wore dark clothes and a mask, covering half his face but leaving curved lips bare. Even at sixteen I was short, and he stood tall above me. I'd heard stories about this man – the mysterious Phantom that haunted the Opera Populaire. Legends said that under his mask lay a face horribly disfigured. "_He's here, the Phantom of the Opera_." My voice came out of its own accord, singing a snatch of song I'd heard many times, echoing from the theatre. "Yes." said the Phantom. "My managers are hard hearted indeed to banish a starving girl from their steps."

"And why should you be any different?" I said bitterly. "Joseph Bouquet and Piangi died at your hand." I saw a flash of fire in his eyes and realised I'd made a mistake. Suddenly he was close, a hand gripping my throat, but not completely cutting off my windpipe. "I felt pity for you because you and I both have not received compassion from the world."

"I'm sorry," I managed to gasp out. "Would it not be slightly contradictory to kill me now, in that case?" He chuckled and tossed me away, spinning on his heel and striding from the front of the theatre. The cobbled streets were cold. Perhaps that was the reason a shudder ran the length of my body.

I slept in front of the Opera Populaire that night, and no one else came to drive me away, for which I was grateful. I suspected the masked man had something to do with it. Tomorrow night was the opening night of the new production of _La Traviata, _and hopefully it would have them all distracted and I could sleep somewhere warm.


	2. Chapter 2

I roamed the streets of Paris the next day, trying to find food to fill my rumbling belly. By now, any guilt I felt at snatching apples and loaves of bread from stalls at the market was long gone. I had stolen for so long that I felt nothing. I ate a decent supper of fruit and bread – no one had seen my hand sneak up to shelves at the market. When I returned to the theatre, I could hear the orchestra tuning up for _La Traviata. _I could hear fluttering trills of music floating through the doors, and it was tantalising. I wanted, more than anything, to creep in and watch – and yes, maybe part of me wanted to see the Phantom again. I was curious. Were the rumours true? What did he do in his spare time? In a split second decision, I decided to sneak in. I would find an empty seat and watch – whether I saw him or not, I would enjoy the music I so craved. With that, I waited until the doors were deserted, and slipped inside. A side passage led up to the top boxes, so I took it. There was one deserted – Box five, so I sat down and waited for the opera to start.

As Carlotta took her place on stage, I felt a hand close around my throat in the darkness. "This is my box. Get out," the Phantom ordered.

"But you're not using it," I said bravely.

"_Get out, _before I decide that sparing your life wasn't a good idea."

"So you would kill me just for sitting in your box at the opera? I can't even see you! How was I to know?"

"Haven't you heard? Box five is always kept empty for me."

"Well fine then, I'll go. All you had to do was ask nicely."

"Then leave, before you infuriate me further." I scurried out; my previous bravery withered and vanished.

I took refuge at the side of the audience behind a curtain – I was able to half watch the show and take in the music. Carlotta, the prima donna, was appalling. Her singing was tuneful, at least, but she sounded like a dying cat screeching and wailing. No one else seemed to notice, and cheers rebounded through the theatre as the opera ended.

As I slipped back through the passage, I came face to face with the Phantom. It seemed he had been waiting for me. "_Monsieur, I pray you let me leave here with my life._" My sharp, terrified singing seemed to strike a chord with him. (No pun intended.) "You will not die tonight, _girl_, but cross my path again and you'll be swinging from a noose before you can say _ghost_."

"What have I done wrong?"

"You are an extremely irritating child when you choose to be." This irritated _me_.

"I'm sixteen. I'd prefer you not call me a _child_."

"I don't think you have much choice in the matter." The Phantom's voice was menacing, and I saw him running a length of rope through his leather-gloved hands. "Fine. We'll see," I said coldly.

"We will," he said evenly. I walked away. His last words floated back to me as I crept down the passage: "Come to my theatre again, and I will kill you."

I curled up in the warmth of the doorway that night and slept as well as I could, but my dreams remained haunted by the Phantom's masked face. The next day, fuelled by my nightmares and anger at his patronising tone, I decided to creep in again.


	3. Chapter 3

_The Phantom sat at the organ in his lair below the ground, playing his music softly, considering the girl. She had the power to annoy him extremely, but there was something about her – her voice left him wanting more. She wasn't beautiful, and a life of poverty had left its mark, but her singing could be trained into something that would leave people weeping. She could become great. The thing that he was deliberating over was his reputation. She knew him as the hard-hearted Phantom that killed without a thought, and the threat he had left her with would undoubtedly stop her coming back. He needed a plan. _

Before I slipped inside the Opera Populaire once more that night, I stole a rose and a black ribbon from the florist's. I narrowly crept by Andre, who I thought had seen something as I'd darted past. I quietly made my way to Box five, and tied the silken, ink-black ribbon around the deep crimson rose. As I rose up from the seat, a hand grasped me by the throat, and a deep, silken, yet infinitely dangerous voice whispered in my ear. "A rose. How thoughtful. What concerns me more is _how you got into my box._"

"You should know not to give me such a challenge," I said cheekily. "It was practically an invitation to sneak in again."

"Your bravery does you credit. Not many would dare to return after I'd told them not to; but did you really think you'd escape alive?"

"You could have killed me several times and you haven't. Why?"

"I'll admit," the Phantom said slowly, "that you intrigue me. Your voice, with training, could become something special." I was shocked. He had gone from promising my death to complimenting me. "I could tutor you." I was very dubious at that – he'd almost killed me several times and besides, I'd heard the stories of Christine Daae. She'd become his student and almost died when she'd rejected him for the Vicomte de Chagny. The Phantom smirked. "You remember the tale of that traitorous _whore _Christine, and fear that you would meet the same fate – but do not fear. I would not harm you for as long as you obeyed me." Well that wasn't much of a promise, but the look in his eyes told me not to argue. I hesitated. "I'd be honoured, _monsieur_."

"Good. You will come to Christine's old dressing room tomorrow night. Wait by the mirror." As he turned to go, I spoke again.

"How will I get there? Andre and Firmin are determined that I'm a filthy urchin to be kept away."

"Come with me." I saw his fingers clenched in a claw-like grip. I realised I was worried for them. We entered the theatre, master and student, to gasps from the entire company. The Phantom spoke to them in a menacing, tuneful song.

"_Why so silent, good messieurs?"_

"_Did you think that I had left you for good?"_

"_Have you missed me, good messieurs?" _

"_I have found myself a student." _

"That filthy urchin." Andre's lip curled in disgust.

"_Hold your tongue_," the Phantom spat. "Alice sings better than you could ever dream to." I blushed, and my teacher noticed. "Do not hide your talent, girl. I will show your voice to the world." I finally saw what he was doing for me. He would provide what my parents no longer could – a home and a profession. Meanwhile, the Phantom continued lecturing Firmin and Andre, a dangerous glint in his eye. "You will provide her with a part in the company and Christine Daae's old dressing room." Instantly there was uproar.

"She cannot sing," Carlotta spat in the thick Italian accent that was uncommon here.

"She cannot dance," Madame Giry tutted.

"Put her in the chorus," he growled. "_Remember there are worse things than a shattered chandelier." _These last words were a haunting melody. "I will teach her to dance and to sing. Buy her a ballet dancer's clothes and shoes, then take the cost from my salary."

"I couldn't possibly-" I protested, but the Phantom silenced me with a wave of his hand. "Remember what I told you – tomorrow night in front of the mirror." I swallowed and nodded. What had I gotten myself into?


	4. Chapter 4

The next day was a flurry of activity. Madame Giry, the dance mistress, found me a white leotard, skirt and new stockings to wear, and fetched a pair of ballet slippers. Considering she had only looked at my foot and not measured it, it was surprising when the shoes fitted perfectly. The leotard fitted snugly and I felt magically transformed in the new outfit. The silk ties on the slippers took me a while to do up, but it was worth it. I'd bathed as well, and the feeling of being completely clean was unfamiliar. Madame Giry then spent the day teaching me the basics of ballet. To my surprise, I wasn't bad. I had a kind of natural grace, it seemed, and this helped a great deal. I wasn't very fit, and my muscles were tight from lack of use however, so that hindered my progress somewhat.

Carlotta, I knew, resented my presence. My unskilled attempts at dancing prompted undisguised snickers from her, and no one had heard me sing – although I still doubted the Phantom's faith in my voice. Nevertheless, a prickling in the back of my neck hinted the fact that he was watching, always there, so Carlotta dared not insult me too badly.

By the time night fell I was tired, and I wanted nothing more than to collapse into the soft bed that sat waiting in Christine's room. I almost did, but as I sat on the bed, a whispering voice sounded in the room around me. "_Do not be late, lest you incur my wrath. Time for sleep will come later." _ In a spark of stubbornness I sometimes showed, I said, "no. I'm tired. Let me sleep. Nobody warned me Madame Giry would work me to the bone."

"_You will obey me. If I tell you to come, you do so." _ There was an edge of fury to his voice I found terrifying. "I'm sorry," I said. I walked to the mirror. "What should I do now, Master?" The honorific title would boost his ego a bit. A low chuckle echoed through the room. "_Look into the mirror. Push the frame._" I did so and it clicked, the glass sliding sideways to reveal a passage. At its end stood the Phantom. I walked to meet him in a sort of trance, aware of music sounding softly in the back of my mind. "_In sleep he sang to me; in dreams he came. That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name. And do I dream again, for now I find – the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind." _The song escaped my lips easily, as if I'd known it all my life. The Phantom looked daggers at me, and I stopped the song abruptly. "I'm – I'm sorry," I stammered. "Did I do something wrong?" He sighed.

"Christine sang that song to me the first time I brought her down here."

"Ah." That made sense. "Seeing as she seems quite a _delicate _subject, I'll try something different." New words came to my mind, though they still fitted the same haunting tune I'd picked up before. "_I have not heard you sing, but in my mind, your voice it speaks with me, in one combined._" The Phantom continued, the song now flowing through his strong, rich tenor. "_They say I am a ghost, but you must know – a man lives in this darkened place, deep down below._" Just as I'd suspected – he was not a ghost, nor Christine's Angel, but a mortal man like any other. He sang again, telling me of my duties as we stepped into a boat, ready to take us across the lake to the shore covered in candles I saw not far off. "_I have brought you to the seat of sweet music's throne, to the place where all must pay homage to music…music." _His voice was seductive and it was difficult for me not just lose myself in it. "_You have come here, for one purpose and one alone – since I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me to serve me, to sing, for my music._"

I expected him to stop there, to let me sing, but he continued, and the flattering tone he had so far used turned threatening. "_No doubt you'll do your best; it's true, your voice is good but you know should you wish to excel, you have much still to learn, so you will obey me, your teacher… your teacher._" By now we had reached the shore. He helped me out of the boat and led me on to the beach. Candles in elaborate holders festooned the place, sending a warm light across the ground. "I will give you a choice," the Phantom said. "Dance or singing first?"

"Dance. I'm not very good at that." A thought occurred to me. "But if I may ask… what is your name?" No one had asked him that for years, and he told me as much. "If you must know – it's Erik. Erik Destler."

"It's a good name. A strong name." There was something approaching wonder in his eyes. Compassion was something he obviously wasn't used to. "Well, I'll admit that's not something I hear often." Then he smirked. "You distract me from the task at hand." I noticed, as he gestured to it, a wooden dancer's barre set into the wall. "_Pliés_," he ordered. I remembered the basic move and set myself in position, bending my knees carefully. "Back straight," Erik snapped. "Toes pointed." I hastened to follow his instructions. "Good."

I continued with _pliés _for half an hour, until I had mastered them. Several times Erik cuffed me lightly on the back of the head when I failed to obey him quickly enough. I was starting to regret becoming his student. When we finished with _pliés_, we started on lifts. "Legs and arms straight, toes pointed first," he told me. "Don't go stiff – just relax." He gripped my waist almost carefully and lifted me into the air – my skin tingled where he touched it. As the move ended, he sang again.

_Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation_

_Darkness stirs, and wakes imagination._

_Silently the senses abandon their defences._

_Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendour_

_Grasp it; sense it – tremulous and tender_

_Turn your face away from the garish light of day_

_Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light_

_And listen to the music of the night. _

_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams!  
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before!  
Close your eyes; let your spirit start to soar!  
And you'll live as you've never lived before ...  
_

As he sang, he wrapped strong arms around my waist. We were close – so close. Our bodies had practically melded together, and although I was young, I could feel my body aching for him.

_Softly, deftly, music shall surround you ...  
Feel it, hear it, closing in around you ...  
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind,  
in this darkness which you know you cannot fight -  
the darkness of the music of the night._

Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world!  
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before!  
Let your soul  
Take you where you long to be!  
Only then can you belong to me ...

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication!  
Touch me, trust me; savour each sensation!  
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in 

_To the power of the music that I write –_

_The power of the music of the night._

Softly, I sang the last line, easily coming up with words.

_You alone can make my song take flight._

_Help me make the music of the night._

Carefully, I slipped his mask from his face.


	5. Chapter 5

_Carefully, I slipped the mask from his face._

Immediately he was upon me, and shoved, sending me sprawling to the floor, my legs on full display. I blushed. "_Damn you! You little prying Pandora! You little demon! Is this what you wanted to see? Curse you, you little lying Delilah! You little viper! Now you cannot ever be free! Damn you… Curse you…" _His face was deformed, and yet it was not that of which I was afraid. He seemed so betrayed. I picked up the white mask, and he flinched as I offered it to him. "I'm sorry." He took it and placed it back on his face, covering the bubbled, melting flesh over the left side of it. _"Stranger than you dreamt it, can you even bear to look or bear to think of me? This loathsome gargoyle, who burns in hell, but secretly yearns for heaven, secretly... secretly_." He spat the words out, falling to a whisper. "_Fear can turn to love - you'll learn to see; to find the man behind the monster: this repulsive carcass, who seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty, secretly... secretly..."_

"You are no more monstrous than I," I whispered. He laughed at that, a bitter chuckle that had no mirth. "How so, Alice? You have no such deformities." I ripped a piece from a curtain at the back of the room and dipped it into the water, wiping at my skin carefully. By the time I was done, my own ugliness was revealed. Ropy, raised scars crisscrossed my back, legs and arms. Lesser weals cut my face. "When I was nine, I broke a bottle of my father's whisky. It shattered all over the floor, spilling the contents everywhere. He took a whip and flayed me within an inch of my life. The doctor said the scars would never heal or die down. They've been bright red ever since, so I stole some makeup and covered them." Erik didn't seem disgusted, but that wasn't surprising. He ran his finger over the welts, sending a shiver down my spine. "You and I, both scarred together."

"Together," I agreed. We sang on in the night, both of us offering comfort to the other.

It was midnight by the time I returned to Christine's dressing room. I supposed it was mine, now. I took out the box of makeup I had stolen and covered my scars once more. A knock sounded, and a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes entered. "Hello. My name is Meg Giry."

"Alice," I said in return.

"You're the Phantom's pupil."

'Yes."

"What is he like?"

"He doesn't suffer fools," I snapped. Meg looked slightly crushed. "I'm sorry. I'm tired. It's midnight. I've been doing ballet and singing all day." I didn't mention Erik cuffing me over the head. I doubted, somehow, that it would go down well. "He is a genius, but not a patient teacher." I knew Meg sensed I had something to hide. "Please tell me you are not falling in love with him," she pleaded.

"So what if I was?" I said sharply, patience wearing thin.

"He's dangerous."

"He is my teacher. He's exposed me to a world I never would have dreamed of. _The Angel of Music sings songs in my head_." She sighed. I guessed the saying was similar to something Christine had told her. "Good night," Meg said softly, and clicked the door shut. I slipped into bed in my old clothes, warm and comfortable. For once I would get a proper night's sleep.

Over the next month, I continued to dance under Madame Giry's instructions, improved by Erik's tuition, which I received each night. My movements were now smooth and fluid, but the memory of his hands running across my skin turned my cheeks scarlet. Madame Giry gave a rare compliment and told me I was improving, and that I had been well taught.

That night, a voice sounded in my ears as I sat in the dressing room. "_Brava…brava…bravissima!" _I could tell it was the Angel of Music, Erik, my teacher. Before he could continue, a knock sounded and a young man entered. I was irritated. "Don't you know it's impolite to enter a lady's room without permission?" I snapped.

"I apologise," he said, though there was a cheeky twinkle in his eye. "My name is Thomas Devaux. I have heard you sing. Your voice is beautiful." He was handsome, and instantly I was on my guard. If the Phantom so much as suspected I was being seduced, he would kill him. "Well, monsieur, I've a had a long day – if you would be so kind as to leave me to my rest."

"Of course, if that's how you feel, I'll leave – but I wonder if I could prevail upon you to go to dinner with me?"

"What do you know about this theatre, monsieur?"

"I am the new _patron_, but I confess I have heard little but the tales of that opera ghost." I stood and faced him, seriousness in my tone.

"He has taken me on as his student. It would be wise if you therefore left me to my own devices." A flash of irritation crossed his face. "I'll not be put off by some phantasm."

"_Non, _monsieur – he is all too real. Do not attempt to cross him. Remember the story of Miss Christine Daae."

" The Vicomte was foolish. I will not make the same mistakes."

"Do I have to warn you again, monsieur? _Get out_."

"I'll not stop until you love me, Alice Henrie." He left, and the door snapped shut. For the first time I was afraid the Phantom would take his wrath out on me. Within ten seconds, my Angel's angry voice shattered the silence as he sang. "_Insolent boy, this slave of fashion – basking in your glory. Ignorant FOOL, this brave young suitor – sharing in my triumph_."

"_Angel, I hear you; speak – I listen. Stay by my side, guide me." _His voice was a low growl, while mine had the slightest tremor. I turned away from the mirror and stood very still – I heard a click and scrape, then the padding of footsteps across carpet. Strong arms gripped my waist, slowly pulling me backward. I was soon tight against the Phantom's chest, his lips a hair's breadth away from my neck. "Do you not turn and face your guest? Common courtesy I deserve, surely."

"I'm sorry," I faltered. "I did not know he would come here. I had never met him before this moment."

"Are you certain? He seemed rather intent." The threat in his voice was unmistakeable. "It seemed the challenge was what he wanted," I said uncertainly.

"Such is the way of men. I will take care of him." Sudden panic struck me.

"Don't kill him. I couldn't bear it if he died on my account for a crime he didn't know was wrong."

"As you wish – ignore him, and he will go away eventually. Now come down below with me – it is time to continue your instruction."

I followed him through the passage and across the lake in the boat, where he once more helped me ashore. Hesitantly I stepped up, trying to gauge his mood. "Tonight you will sing." Obviously he was angry enough to deprive me of the choice. "What, Master?" The honorific would flatter him, and help me avoid being hung by the Punjab lasso. "Anything. Something," he snapped. I thought of the only song I knew – that famous aria from act three of Hannibal. Carlotta's screeching had been so loud that day that the words had imprinted themselves in my brain.

_Think of me, think of me fondly  
When we've said goodbye  
Remember me once in a while  
Please promise me, you'll try_

Then you'll find that once again you long  
To take your heart back and be free  
If you'll ever find a moment  
Spare a thought for me

We never said our love was evergreen  
Or as unchanging as the sea  
But if you can still remember  
Stop and think of me

Think of all the things  
We've shared and seen  
Don't think about the way  
Things might have been

Think of me, think of me waking  
Silent and resigned  
Imagine me trying too hard  
To put you from my mind

Recall those days, look back on all those times  
Think of those things we'll never do  
There will never be a day  
When I won't think of you

Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade  
They have their seasons, so do we  
But please promise me that sometimes  
You will think of me

The high notes were easy enough to hit, and the Phantom seemed almost calmed by my singing – that is, until I came to the last line. The cadenza on the word 'of' was tricky, and I'm ashamed to say that it was terrible. My breathing was all over the place, and I had no idea about the note sequence, so I made it up – and as a result the pitch was fairly bad. The Phantom of the Opera put his hands over his ears. "You _butchered _that last line. You sounded like a dying cat." That was overdoing it, and anger flared up inside me. "Well I'm sorry, O Perfect One! Maybe if I'd had the chance to listen to music all my life I'd know what the last line sounded like."

"Hold your tongue." Although his tone was threatening and menacing, I was too irate to simply follow orders. "No! Make me!" My eyes stayed fixed on the Phantom as he stepped closer – his fists sat balled at his sides, and I stopped myself from blinking. The effort was futile, though, and my eyes watered. I blinked absently, and that was when he struck. A rope looped itself around my throat, and it tightened – but not quite to the point that it choked me. "Consider your options carefully," he spat. "You are on Death's door and lifting the latch." He was completely mad – and yet I still loved him. I couldn't give him up. "I'm sorry." Tears threatened to bubble over my eyelids. "I just hated the fact you were disappointed in me." He seemed to pause. "You've taught me for so long – it's the worst feeling. You're a genius – I wanted you to be impressed with me." I had intended to flatter him, and he knew it. Nevertheless it worked – he loosened the noose from my neck and tucked the rope away. "Don't give me cheek," he snarled. "Now, that cadenza." He walked over to the tall organ and played the melody for me – I tried to remember it and copy. At last I got it right, and he sighed in relief. I broached a question. "Didn't you write an opera?"

"_Don Juan Triumphant_," he murmured. "I still have the score."

"May I read it?" I asked.

"If you cannot read music, you will not be able to." His tone was dry. I'd forgotten that. "Can you sing some of it?"

"Many of the songs are written for sopranos," he muttered. "But I rather think it is time we performed it once again – and Carlotta will not sing it. You will."

"I can't be the new soprano," I gasped. "My voice is nowhere near capable – and besides, Carlotta would have my head on a platter if I tried to take her place."

"Carlotta is nothing but a toad," he said darkly, and I laughed. Even I remembered the day her voice had given out onstage, reduced to croaking like a" frog. It had been all over the papers. "That was a genius bit of mischief." He chuckled along with me – then I remembered Joseph Bouquet, swinging from the rafters, his neck broken, strangled by a noose. I stopped laughing abruptly. "Joseph Bouquet was a fool," he snapped, as if reading my thoughts. "I will ensure that soprano auditions are held, and that you receive the part. I will play Don Juan, and you the maiden."

"Would it be safe for you to perform? The police tried to kill you last time."

"There are plenty of escape routes. Now, let us work on your high notes. You struggle with those, I've noticed. Open up your throat, and let the sound flow out as best you can." He played a note on the organ. "Sing." I sang the note – it was difficult, but following my teacher's instructions made it easier. We continued well into the night, by which time I could sing my top note, a high C, clearly and sweetly.


	6. Chapter 6

When morning came I was asleep in my bed. I had a vague, misty memory of drifting into sleep, then waking ever so slightly as the Phantom carried me out of the house and across the lake. A rose lay on my pillow, along with an envelope sealed with a waxen skull. I opened it – the letter bore a simple message. _You are ready. Sing the aria from Hannibal at two this afternoon. I will be watching. _He had trained me over this past month, and now he believed it was time.

My dancing had improved – the others no longer snickered at my attempts. "Good," Mme Giry said as I executed a leap, high into the air. "Perfect, in fact," she corrected, as I landed lightly on the balls of my feet and dropped into a crouch. At that moment, Andre and Firmin entered. "We are auditioning for a new lead soprano. The _Opera Ghost_," he said the name with contempt, "has ordered that his student take part."

"As my master commands," I said quietly. I followed them onto the main stage and into the centre. I flicked my eyes up to box five – and there he was in the shadows, watching with an emotionless stare. His fingers tapped against his leg impatiently, however. "What will you sing, mademoiselle?" The orchestra conductor's tone was clipped and brusque. "The aria from act three of _Hannibal_, if you please, Maestro," I said politely.

"Certainly," he said, taken aback by my manners – that which he was not used to from _La Carlotta_. The musicians flipped through sheets of music, and when they were ready, the maestro began the melody. I sang through it, high notes clean and crisp. I saw him watching me and tried vainly to impress him. Looking back, it was rather pathetic. The managers clapped as I concluded. "You have been well taught," Andre admitted.

Next, Carlotta sang Tamino's aria from _The Magic Flute_ – the opera by Mozart_. _She screeched her way through, nearly breaking the glass in the huge chandelier that hung from the ceiling above the stage. I saw Andre and Firmin wincing, and knew at that moment I would succeed even without the Opera Ghost's influence.

When we had finished, an envelope floated down from box five, sealed with a wax skull. I picked it up and read it out to the group.

_Fondest greetings to you all,_

_I have listened to the sopranos you put forward. _

_I believe Miss Henrie is the most accomplished – Carlotta sounded like a toad._

_Further instructions will await you next year, after the Masquerade Ball. _

_I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant,_

_O.G. _

_Post Script: I advise Alice to continue her studies with me, and the new _patron _to keep away from my student. _

I smirked, and turned to see the _patron_ looking angrily at the letter. "I advised you to listen to me, did I not, monsieur?"

"You bewitch me," he pleaded. "You have charmed me like no other woman ever could." I simply sighed. Things would take their course, and I had done all I could.

Things proceeded normally for a time – by day I danced and practised for the new production of _Tosca_ – by night I trained with the Phantom. We had grown closer than ever, and yet he had never kissed me. He preferred to tease me endlessly with warm arms around my waist, and fingers running across my skin.


	7. Chapter 7

The day things turned sour was the last day of rehearsals for _Tosca. _When I had finished Thomas Deveaux came and hurried me away, up the back stairs onto the roof. He then began to sing, a passionate song of love. "Do not fear the Phantom," he said.

_No more talk  
of darkness,  
Forget these  
wide-eyed fears.  
I'm here,  
nothing can harm you -  
my words will  
warm and calm you._

Let me be  
your freedom,  
let daylight  
dry -your tears.  
I'm here,  
with you, beside you,  
to guard you  
and to guide you . . .

I ignored him, wandering away, gazing dreamily into the distance as the Phantom entered my thoughts. I sang a different song, one that told the Phantom my feelings. He was there, I knew.

_Say he loves me  
every waking moment,  
turns my head  
with talk of summertime . . ._

Say he needs me  
with him,  
now and always . . .  
promise me that all  
he says is true -  
that's all I ask  
of you . . .

Thomas sang desperately, trying to catch my attention.

_Let me be  
your shelter,  
let me  
be your light.  
You're safe:  
No-one will find you  
your fears are  
far behind you . . ._

Still, I sang of the Phantom. He was and always would be my angel.

_All I want is freedom,_

_A world with no more light._

_And him, always beside me_

_To guard me and to guide me._

He sang again, ceaseless in his attempts to win me over, no matter how I spurned and ignored him.

_Then say you'll share with  
me one  
love, one lifetime . . .  
Iet me lead you  
from your solitude . . ._

Say you need me  
with you  
here, beside you . . .  
anywhere you go,  
let me go too -  
Alice,  
that's all I ask  
of you . . .  


I sang to Erik again, certain he was listening.

_Say he'll share with  
me one  
love, one lifetime . . .  
say the word  
and I will follow him . . ._

_Share each day with  
me, each  
night, each morning . . .__  
_  
_Say you love me . . ._

Thomas sang to me sweetly, desperate to regain control.

_Alice, you know I do . . ._

I sang sadly to the sky.

_Love me,_

_That's all I ask of you._

There was no reply. I sighed, then opened the door leading to the stairwell, ready to head down to the roof. Faintly, I heard the Phantom singing to himself in a voice so filled with pain, I thought my heart would break.

_I gave you my music…_

_Made your song take wing…_

_And now, how you've repaid me,_

_Denied me and betrayed me._

_He was bound to love you,_

_When he heard you sing…_

His last, harshly whispered words sent a chill down my spine. "So, let it be war upon you both."


	8. Chapter 8

A month later it was New Year's Eve – the Opera Populaire's Masquerade Ball. As the new lead soprano, I had been invited to the event. My gown was a deep red, but when I entered I discovered everyone else was in black or white. The omen didn't strike me as menacing, but indeed it should have. I had intended on entering alone, but Thomas insisted on escorting me inside. I stepped onto the clean marble floor, worries forgotten – though they threatened to resurface at any moment. The night Thomas had sung to me, I had returned to my dressing room to wait for the Phantom – but he never appeared. The same had happened every night for this past month, and my heart was beginning to ache with the loss.

Thomas took me and began to dance – and I'll admit that at that moment, some part of me gave in. Erik had spurned me, left me without a word. Let him suffer. Around my neck on a gold chain lay a ring the _patron _had given me, hidden from prying eyes. The company began to sing as the orchestra struck up a tune.

_Masquerade! _

_Paper faces on parade  
Masquerade! _

_Hide your face so the world will never find you  
Masquerade! _

_Every face a different shade  
Masquerade! _

_Look around, there's another mask behind you._

_Flash of mauve_  
_Splash of puce_  
_Fool and king_  
_Ghoul and goose_  
_Green and black_  
_Queen and priest_  
_Trace of rouge_  
_Face of beast_

_Faces!  
Take your turn; take a ride  
on the merry-go-round  
in an inhuman race  
Eye of gold  
Thigh of blue  
True is false  
Who is who?  
Curl of lip  
Swirl of gown  
Ace of hearts  
Face of clown  
Faces! _

_Drink it in, drink it up  
Till you've drowned  
In the light  
In the sound  
But who can name the face?_

_Masquerade!_

_Grinning yellows, spinning reds  
Masquerade! _

_Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you  
_

_Masquerade! _

_Burning glances, turning heads  
Masquerade! _

_Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you  
_

_Masquerade! _

_Seething shadows breathing lies,  
Masquerade! _

_You can fool any friend who ever knew you  
_

_Masquerade! _

_Leering satyrs, peering eyes  
Masquerade!_

_Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you._

_What a night!_  
_What a crowd!_  
_Makes you glad_  
_Makes you proud_  
_All the creme_  
_De la creme_  
_Watching us, watching them_  
_All our fears are in the past_

Andre and Firmin sang jovially to one another, relieved at last that the Phantom had ceased to bother them and left them to their own devices.

_A month_  
_Of relief!_  
_Of delight!_  
_Of Elysian peace!_  
_And we can breathe at last._

_No more notes  
No more ghosts  
Here's a health  
Here's a toast  
To a prosperous year  
To our friends who are here_

_May the splendour never fade,_  
_What a blessed release!_

_And what a masquerade!_

I drifted away from the managers as the company began again in chorus.

_Masquerade!  
Paper faces on parade  
Masquerade!_

_Hide your face so the world will never find you  
Masquerade! _

_Every face a different shade  
Masquerade! _

_Look around, there's another mask behind you  
Masquerade! _

_Burning glances, turning heads  
Masquerade! _

_Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you  
Masquerade! _

_Grinning yellows, spinning reds  
Masquerade! _

_Take your fill; let the spectacle astound you._

As the song concluded, footsteps could be heard echoing across the room, as a man in a deep red suit crossed the floor. His face was hidden by a white mask, the eyeholes of which bled streams of black ink.

_Why so silent, good messieurs?_

_Did you think that I had left you for good?_

_Have you missed me, good messieurs?_

_Don Juan must triumph once again!_

The Phantom's voice was sharp and amused. "I intend for the Populaire to run a second season of my opera. I shall play Don Juan." The company gasped – there was to be no behind-the-scenes switch with Piangi this time. I was distinctly aware of the ring around my neck on a chain, that gift from Thomas. I should have known not to wear it – the Phantom would assume I was engaged. "_As for our star, Miss Alice Henrie_… _no doubt she'll do her best, it's true – her voice is good but she knows should she wish to excel, she has much still to learn; if pride will let her return to me, her teacher…her teacher._" He had approached me slowly all the while, and was now a mere inch away. He spied the ring sitting snugly against my chest, buried in the fabric of the décolletage of my dress. With a vicious tug, he ripped it off the chain, snapping the delicate links, and shoved it on my ring finger. "_Your chains are still mine," _he sang. "_You will sing for me!_" With a flash of smoke, he disappeared.

With a cry, I fled the ballroom. I looked for nothing else but escape – escape from my feelings for the Phantom, and escape from him, for he would surely kill me. I had betrayed him, if not in word then in deed. Meanwhile, Thomas Deveaux was determined to bring the Phantom down.

"_We have all been blind_," he sang. "_When the answer was staring us in the face. This could be the chance to ensnare our clever friend. We will play his game; perform his work – but we know that we hold the ace. For if Miss Henrie sings, he is certain to perform."_

Andre and Firmin sang with him. "_We make certain the doors are barred!"_

"_We make certain the police are there!" _The _patron _finished with a flourish. "_We make certain they're armed."_

"_The curtain falls – his reign will end!" _

I sat in a side room, crying. I had to sing, had to see him again – but I was certain that Thomas would try to kill him, and Erik try to take me. If I displeased him, I was sure that the Punjab noose would have a victim. The _patron _entered quietly, and softly I began to sing.

_Twisted every way, what answer can I give?_

_Am I to risk my life to win the chance to live?_

_Can I betray the man who once inspired my voice?_

_Do I become his prey – do I have any choice?_

_He kills without a thought; he murders all that's good –_

_I know I can't refuse, and yet I wish I could._

_Oh God, if I agree, what horrors wait for me_

_In this, the Phantom's opera?_

Thomas joined in gently.

_Alice, don't think that I don't care –_

_But every hope, and every prayer rests on you now._

"I'll do it." I said stoutly. "I'll sing." If I could see him again, I could try and persuade him that what he had seen wasn't what it looked like – but if he took a negative view to me, who knew what he would do? There were worse things he could do than kill me. I would just have to take my chances, and trust in God.


	9. Chapter 9

The next day, rehearsals for _Don Juan Triumphant _began. I did not see the Phantom until noon that day, when he entered with a sweep of his black velvet cape, wearing once again his plain white half-mask. The entire opera company was filled with tension – some had never seen the man of legend that called himself the Opera Ghost. I felt an ache in my chest at the sight of him. The pain in his eyes ripped into my very soul. In a moment he was opposite me, his face a hair's breadth from mine. "You will rehearse," he hissed. "Do not talk to me. You sacrificed any right to speak with me upon your betrayal."

"Please-" I begged, but he cut me off with a look of pure rage that easily outstripped his anger thus far. It was a look that would make a grown man quail. So, I did what I was told despite the wrenching at my heartstrings, and stayed silent. I sang, but did not speak to him at all, and when we were through, I kept my head bowed and did not look Erik in the eyes once. No one saw where he went when he at last decided to leave, though I knew the route he would have taken.

At the end of the night I went to my room and cried. The salt of my tears stained my face and soaked my feeble handkerchief, soon rendered useless. I had not intended to lure him into speech, but the Phantom's voice nevertheless sounded around me. "_You have no right to weep. Keep silent." _I had had enough.

"No right to weep? You are the one that abandoned me – left me with neither teacher nor lover! How can I be a successful soprano – a position you forced upon me, mind – if I have no one to guide me?"

"Traitorous harlot. You sold yourself to the _patron, _that simpering fool Thomas Deveaux."

"You assumed that. Had you been listening properly, you would have known I was singing to you!"

"_Lies_. Nothing but lies you speak to cover your tracks." The fool! He would rather think I had betrayed him, lied to him and deceived him traitorously than believe my innocence. He was truly bitter and twisted inside, his soul damaged by the torment it had suffered.

"Fine. Disbelieve me then. You only draw yourself from happiness, and further rip my heart asunder." With a sigh, I curled up on my bed and slept. Deep in the bowels of the opera house, the Phantom fumed. I had to get him back, and if that meant resorting to desperate measures, then so be it. Let the games begin.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I now begin to draw to a close this little fic, so I need help from my followers, however few they may be. Riddle me this: happy or sad ending? Sad ending includes the death of a character, and probably some seriously twisted stuff. Depends how I'm feeling. Be quick – you have three days to review with an answer, and I'll count up the votes.

The opening night of _Don Juan _was upon us, and though everyone was busy, it was with a tension that spoke of his or her fear beneath. Meg and I were in the prima donna's dressing room. My room. She yanked at the ties of my corset, lacing them impossibly tight. My dress had a cream bodice and forest green skirts, complimented by harvest flowers woven through my golden hair. "I don't need this," I protested, grimacing. "I mean, it's not as if I'm fat."

"I need to make sure the Phantom won't get it off."

"I wasn't planning to –"

"It doesn't matter what you were _planning_." For a moment I saw the family resemblance as Meg's tones echoed those sharp ones of her mother, Madame Giry. "If that's what the Phantom wants, he'll take it." I was stunned into silence. I didn't think that would seriously happen…. But what if Meg was right? He was angry enough as it was, and if his madness got the better of him, who knew?

Nervous and jittery, I took my place on stage. As the opera began, it seemed that even the audience was tense. Understandable, I supposed, given the disaster that had occurred a year ago. The production went off without a hitch, and I was beginning to think all would be well – then came the final piece of the second act. Throughout, the story of Don Juan's plan to seduce the maiden Aminta had been told – now it would be played out. My hands shook as I entered the room as the maiden, singing of the impending dinner with Don Juan, masking himself as Passirino, in pursuit of the maiden's virtue.

_No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy,_

_No dreams within her heart but dreams of love!_

I hit the high note purely and sweetly, striving for the perfection that would win Erik back. _Pathetic. _I knew it to be true, in the back of my mind, that I was trying far too hard, but it didn't matter. I loved him, and my heart would never let him go. A thrill of electricity ran down my spine as I heard him sing.

_Passirino_…

_Go away, for the trap is set_

_And waits for its prey… _

The high note on 'prey' sent a rush of real fear through me – but whether it was fear for my life, or fear of the loss of my control, I didn't know. He made me feel like a reed bent by the wind – without any real grip on my direction. He entered as my back was turned, and began to sing. I knew he would be wearing a suit, and as Don Juan, a mask that covered his face and deformities.

_You have come here  
In pursuit of your deepest urge  
In pursuit of that wish which till now  
Has been silent  
Silent.  
_

He took a light grip around my waist and sang tantalisingly into my ear – something inside him was relenting ever so slightly, I could tell.

_I have brought you  
That our passions may fuse and merge.  
_

_In your mind you've already succumbed to me; dropped all defences  
Completely succumbed to me.  
_

_Now you are here with me;  
No second thoughts.  
You've decided;  
Decided. _

The soft, silky words turned passionate as the Phantom's Opera truly came to fruition. I felt something inside me weaken and fall, and I turned to him, flirtation in every inch of my being – the way I stood, and the look I gave him.

_Past the point of no return_

_No backward glances_

_Our games of make believe are at an end_

_Past all thought of if or when,_

_No use resisting_

_Abandon thought and let the dream descend_

_What raging fire shall flood the soul_

_What rich desire unlocks its door _

_What sweet seduction lies before us…? _

_Past the point of no return _

_The final threshold_

_What warm unspoken secrets will we learn?_

_Beyond the point of no return._

By now, he had me pulled against him as the part demanded – his lips a hair's breadth from my neck. My next words were deeply impassioned – I wanted him to know that I still needed him.

_You have brought me_

_To that moment _

_Where speech disappears into silence…_

_Silence…_

_I have come here_

_Hardly knowing the reason why_

_In my mind I've already imagined _

_Our bodies entwining_

_Defenceless and silent._

_Now I am here with you;_

_No second thoughts._

_I've decided _

_Decided._

Now it was my turn; my change from blushing girl to woman.

_Past the point of no return_

_No going back now_

_Our passion play has now at last begun. _

_Past all thought of right or wrong_

_One final question…_

_How long should we two wait_

_Until we're one?_

_When will the blood begin to race?_

_The sleeping bud burst into bloom?_

_When will the flames at last consume us?_

_Past the point of no return_

_The final threshold_

_The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn…_

It seemed that I held my breath for an eternity.

_Beyond the point_

_Of no return._

We had walked up to a high bridge above the stage, and he paused, pulling me close possessively. He sang so softly that I only I could hear.

_Say you'll share with me _

_One love, one lifetime _

_Lead me, save me from my solitude _

_Say you want me with you, here, beside you_

_Anywhere you go let me go too, _

_Alice, that's all I ask of you. _

It had been all over the papers. Christine – the treacherous snake – had ripped off his mask in front of the entire audience. I would not do the same. Instead, I could save what he had cast aside.

_I have always loved you_

_And I always will._

_Be here, with me, beside me._

_Hold me now, and hide me._

I begged him to take me away. Softly, he kissed me on the lips, and heat spread through me. "We must complete your life's work, must we not?" I said.

"We must," he smirked. We moved together – he kissed me hungrily and swept me onto the bed set on stage. The Phantom laid me down and discarded his cloak, half unbuttoning his shirt so his muscled torso was visible. He straddled me on the bed, and I shut my eyes, aware of the lights onstage fading down to black. Erik's work had finally been shown in its entirety. Don Juan had triumphed.


	11. Chapter 11

So, here is the very last chapter of this fic! I have really enjoyed writing it, so I hope you enjoyed reading. So, to go out with a bang, so to speak, I've written a happy ending! There were five votes for a happy ending, and NO VOTES for Erik to wind up insane and a kidnapper…. My small band of Erik/Alice shippers came out in full force to vote for Erik's love life to be salvaged, so here it is. WARNING: scenes of a mildly sexual nature up ahead. If you don't like it, don't read that bit. Right about when he pulls her onto the bed for the SECOND TIME should give you a clue as to when to skip ahead. I'm not addicted to writing lemon fics or anything, I just thought it would round it off nicely and give my readers a bit of satisfaction that Erik didn't die a virgin. Read on, and keep an eye out for my new writing. I'm thinking of a fic for _The Mentalist _involving an OC (Lisbon's new 15 y/o niece) and Patrick Jane – it will not be a creepy fic, no romance, just him and her bonding and maybe solving a murder together. What do you think?

Of course, if you want some teenager/Simon Baker-esque romance, then I could consider it… :P

As the lights faded down to darkness, Erik picked me up and led me offstage, then down a passage, deep into the Populaire. We arrived at his house by the lake, and a profound sense of peace washed over me. I was deep in the darkness once again, where I felt most comfortable. No one could find us. Erik took me in his arms, kissing me passionately. He made no effort to disguise his lust. Within moments he had laid me on a shell-shaped bed, hidden behind gauze curtains. He was making an effort with the laces of my dress, but Meg had done her job too well. Nevertheless, I still felt a profound sense of panic fill me. I wasn't anywhere near ready for this. "I can't," I murmured. "I'm not ready." Something akin to betrayal filled his eyes, and he released me, striding away with a rage-filled gait. Soon he was back, gripping me tight. I sang to him sharply. "_Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for blood? Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?"_

He ripped off his mask and replied, sadness clouding his eyes. "_This fate which condemns me to wallow in blood, has also denied me… the joys of the flesh._ _This face, the infection, which poisons our love…"_

_This face_

_Which earned _

_A mother's fear and loathing_

_A mask_

_My first_

_Unfeeling scrap of clothing._

He grabbed me round the shoulders, and tore my dress off me. I blushed furiously. He merely replaced it with a white wedding dress, and (none too gently) shoved a white bride's veil on my head.

_Pity comes too late_

_Turn around and face your fate_

_An eternity of this_

_Before your eyes. _

I looked at him sadly, pityingly – but there was a fair amount of frustration on my part. Just when I thought I could achieve my own warped version of a happy ever after, his madness and insecurity interfered. He still didn't believe that I loved him, in spite of the scarred deformities on his face. It was my turn to sing.

_This haunted face_

_Holds no horror for me now._

_It's in your soul_

_That the true distortion lies. _

"I want to heal you," I whispered. "I love you, and nothing will change that." A sudden slosh of water by the portcullis gate sent Erik spinning round. I sighed. It was Thomas Deveaux. "_Wait! I think, my dear, we have a guest!_"

"Thomas," I said flatly, glaring at him.

_Sir,_

_This is indeed an unparalleled delight.  
I had rather hoped that you would come  
And now my wish comes true  
You have truly made my night! _

Thomas seemed to be under the mistaken impression that I was the Phantom's prisoner – Erik had grasped me round the waist and pulled me close.

_Free her_

_Do what you like, only free her!_

_Have you no pity?_

I could laugh with my lover, for once, for the way he pleaded for me was amusing. "_Your 'lover' makes a passionate plea_."

_I love her!_

_Does that mean nothing?_

_I love her!_

_Show some compassion!_

Erik's words were spat out hatefully. The _patron_ had reminded him of his dark past, and it angered him suddenly.

_The world showed no compassion to me!_

Thomas was desperate to see me, I could be sure, but the situation was going downhill rapidly.

_Alice…_

_Alice….  
Let me see her… _

Erik's next words were dry and mocking.

_Be my guest, sir._

The Phantom pulled a lever, opening the huge portcullis gate. Thomas splashed inside, and I approached him. "What else do I have to say to you?" I sighed. "I do not love you. I have never loved you. I will never love you." With each sentence, the expression on Thomas' face grew darker. I felt very afraid suddenly – Erik had a volatile temper and the _patron _seemed to be getting angrier himself. Thomas' hand clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword, gripping it so tight that his knuckles turned white. If it blew up in my face, who knew what would happen. "Go," I said gently, trying to pull back a bit. "Find another woman. You are rich and kind-hearted – I'm sure there'd be plenty of girls that would be glad to have you." Looking back, it was my next three words that sparked the chaos that was to unfold next. If I'd simply left it where I had finished, he probably would have left and let me live out my life in peace. Instead, I had to open my big mouth. "Just not me." Fury flashed through Thomas' eyes, and he drew his sword. Angered by the _patron's _violent advances on me, Erik ran and found his own sword, before returning hastily to defend me. "Don't do this, Thomas," I protested. "I'm sorry." Erik sang mockingly to the patron as they squared off.

_Monsieur, I bid you welcome_

_Did you think that I would harm her?_

_Why would I make her pay_

_For the sins that are yours?_

On the last word, the Phantom launched a savage attack. His sword slashed through the air, narrowly missing Thomas as he parried the blow hurriedly. "_Order your fine horses now – raise up your hand to the level of your eyes! Nothing can save you now, except perhaps your sword." _Erik's words were cold. "I'll not have her taken from me. She is mine."

"You're both possessive, let's face it. Why the need to fight? Erik got here first, and that's the truth of it. I don't want you to die, Thomas." He looked irked.

"Why assume that I would lose?"

"He's the Phantom of the Opera. You're already losing." It was true. Thomas' parries and feeble blows were becoming more and more desperate. My heart thumped in my chest as Erik reduced him to a wreck. Swords sliced through the air at lightning speed, but I could see that Thomas was slower. Soon, he just didn't react in time. Erik's blade slipped under his guard and disarmed him, and Thomas overbalanced, landing on his back. He sang to me sadly, as if already sure of his fate.

_Alice, forgive me – please forgive me!_

_I tried so hard to free you!_

I knelt down to him, trying to be sympathetic. "Thomas…" A ghost of a smile crossed his face, and he pulled me close roughly and kissed me. I ripped away, furious.

_The tears I might have shed for your sad fate_

_Grow cold, and turn to tears of hate! _

He looked shocked. The Phantom was furious, and pushed me to one side. I gasped and stumbled. He had drawn his sword, and stood over Thomas with a look of hatred. "No!" I cried. "Don't do it!" Erik ignored me.

"You dare to hold my bride and kiss her? You fool. I would have spared you."

I gripped his arm tight. "Please," I begged him. "If you love me, you'll spare him. He doesn't deserve to die – he's like a stupid child that doesn't know any better." Thomas growled deep in the back of his throat, but didn't dare move with Erik's blade at his neck. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he reluctantly moved his weapon away. "Leave the Populaire and never return. If you come near her again, _I will kill you_." Thomas stood, and glared at us both.

"You are the bride of a madman, and so must be mad yourself," he spat at me. "I wash my hands of you." With that, he left, rowing the small boat out across the lake. Erik pressed his lips to mine, and this time I released into his embrace willingly. As I kissed him, tears glistened on my cheeks and fell to the ground. I was fond of Thomas, for all his flaws, and the look in his eyes as he'd parted had been one of loathing and darkness. "This is the night we are now at last wed, Alice," he whispered. "Put aside your fears and lie with me." With trepidation in my heart, I nodded. He picked me up bridal style and carried me to the seashell bed once more.

He didn't take long to rid me of my clothes. My eyes fluttered closed, and as something inside me ripped and tore, I cried out. The pain lessened slowly, and when it was gone Erik held me closer still. I fell into the swirling pool of ecstasy that had opened up beneath my feet, and the next hour passed in a blur of skin on skin, kisses and caresses that I wanted never to end. Why had I been so afraid? The lessons of my childhood had enforced upon me a deadly fear of a man's love, but now I had experienced it, I knew it was an event I had been waiting for unconsciously my whole life.

I remembered my last view of the night before _Don Juan _had begun – stars and midnight blue ocean above. Now that we were together finally, I was glad that I lay with the Phantom of the Opera, beneath a moonless sky.


End file.
